


crash the gates

by hurryup



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Anal Sex, Communication and Relationship Negotiation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hurryup/pseuds/hurryup
Summary: Allen's thighs squeezed around Link's waist as he tried to guide Link closer and closer, calves at Link's back."Do you wanna fuck me?" Allen asked. Link opened and closed his mouth several times before responding, red up to his ears."Uh," he eventually said, very suavely.





	crash the gates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liketolaugh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/gifts).



Link had never been comfortable in warm weather.

By nature, he actually tended to run rather hot. He'd been glad for this trait when he was a kid, back when shelter was only dubiously available and the nights occasionally veered into freezing temperatures. Now, he was less grateful. His uniform, as well as the three-piece suits he'd adopted during missions, were nothing short of stifling.

So, as far as comfort was concerned, a mission in the southernmost reaches of Spain was hardly ideal— _hardly ideal_ being polite shorthand for completely and utterly _miserable_.

 _Comfort_ , Link thought bitterly, resisting the urge to tug at the collar of his suit jacket, is but a small price to pay for propriety.

Still, despite all of Link's hang-ups with the weather, he'd be hard-pressed to describe the city as anything less than beautiful. There was a warm, fecund glow to this place, thrumming with life. Children ran barefoot across the hot roads, red and pink blooms burst from clay pots on every corner, and music could be heard from the open shutters of nearby cafes—  the skittering musicality of guitars and the brassy yell of trumpets. Link felt thoroughly out of place among all this colour and sound. More than anything, he was just bewildered by it all, and bewildered by the stark contrast it painted against both his stony native Germany and the solemn grandeur of Vatican facilities. This sort of punch-drunk liveliness was beyond his experience.

On a better day, he might have found Spain to be quite romantic, what with its elegant stonework, summer theaters, bandstands and public gardens. He imagined the same would be true of Allen.

In his mind's eye, Link imagined him bustling from vendor to vendor, pushing their budget and Link's patience to the limit as he sampled sweets from every cart— miguelitos, powdered torrijas, small cakes heavy with honeyed syrups.

There was no such excitement from Allen. Not now.

The urbane pleasure any one of them might have felt at being a part of this glittering world was curtailed by the grim taste of failure.

The day's failure in question was less literal, more personal. By technical standards, the standards Link was meant to adhere to, the day's mission had actually been a sound success. They'd successfully recovered the Innocence at stake at the city, and it was already bound for the Order on a night train, accompanied by a guard of Finders. However, several civilians had died in the crossfire in the day's battle.

A result Allen could never accept.

He followed Link a step behind, expression unnervingly blank, as if lost in thought

 _Self-martyring fool,_ Link thought as they winded their way back to the inn, raging sun setting over the city. _You did what you could._

_It wasn't your fault._

They shuffled past the main square, down the road into their inn. Marie and Lenalee, more heavily injured by the day's fighting than either Link or Allen, were quick to climb back to their rooms, an exhausted Lenalee offering Allen a tired smiled and a squeeze on the shoulder before she retired for the evening. Allen and Link went back to their own room.

The day fell away into evening, the scorching heat falling away into tepidness, which Link supposed was this country's equivalent of cool. Link journalled the day's event. Allen lay on his back. He stared at the ceiling, big grey eyes roaming listlessly over white stucco.

A pitiful sight, by all means. Every time Link so much as caught a glance at him, he could feel his stomach roil with some tight, aching emotion—  building and burning like a bonfire. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to have much to do with pity.

"You know, you can't save everyone," Link said when the silence became unbearable. He continued to write as he spoke, not yet even pausing to lift his eyes from his journal.

Allen startled, bracing himself up off the bed with one hand, bedsprings protesting with a weary creak.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm referring to today's events," Link elaborated, rushing to the end of his current phrase in neat, brisk strokes. He capped his pen and tucked it into his journal, turning his whole body to face Allen. He let out a sigh, hoping to channel the flutter of worry into something more professional, like exasperation. "You've been... thinking about it. I can tell. You did what you could, Walker."

Allen pushed himself into an upright position. His lips were pursed thin.

"What I could?" He echoed. Link nodded slowly, eyes trained on Allen with a surgical precision.

"Everything you could've possibly done," Link said. He stood at length, moving to zip his journal into his suitcase. "Sometimes, these things... simply happen."

Allen laughed, bright, bitter, fiercely unhappy.

"God," he said, and when Link turned, he saw Allen bowed into himself, face in his hands. When he straightened himself back out, he was smiling—  smiling a smile as empty and mirthless as his laughter had been. "Link, I know you—  I know you mean well. But you don't need to make excuses for me."

Link edged forwards towards Allen's bed uncertainly.

"Walker—"

"There's always a way," Allen continued, eyes hard, and suddenly he was standing, pacing across the room to brace his hands against the windowsill. " _Always_ . I _refuse_ to give up on anyone. If I'd tried harder, been better—"

"I saw the way you were fighting," Link protested. He advanced cautiously, coming around to stand behind Allen. Beyond their window, merchants were illuminating their windows with long-stemmed candles, their glow pervading the entire street. Hesitantly, Link reached out to touch Allen's shoulder. "You gave everything you had, Walker—"

"But it wasn't enough, was it?" Allen smiled jerkily. "I just... I need to do better."

"You'll run yourself into the ground, thinking that way," Link said. He drew his hand away, and Allen, perhaps in response to the disappearance of this touch, turned around to face Link. "You're a soldier, Walker. Not a machine. You'd do well to remember that."

The wispy ends of Allen's hair were curling around his nape, loose and damp like the petals of hothouse flowers. Perhaps it was an unusual thing to notice, but Link noticed it all the same.

He would've liked to reach a hand back around Allen's neck and touch him, right there, at the slope where his shoulders met his collar. He bit the impulse back, though, racing for something to blame the absurd intensity of this particular desire on— lack of food, lack of sleep, the unerring warmth of the evening.

"You're such a... such a scold," Allen said at last. A flicker of wonder crossed his face. It lit him up in a way that was somewhat remarkable, and despite himself, Link felt a little breathless. He did that; he made Allen feel that.

"Only because I want what's best for you," Link said softly. While not quite hammering, he felt his heart beating with the weighted regularity of a metronome, thudding heavily against his chest. Allen lowered his eyes, lashes coming to rest against his cheeks. "And... I worry for you."

"As my... watcher?"

Link shifted, suddenly nervous as a boy.

"That too, I suppose."

"Oh," Allen said.

Link's hand was on Allen’s chest before he’d even registered Allen had drawn close, overlapping the imaginary line Link had drawn for himself long ago. His hand was right there over Allen's heart, and just faintly, he could feel the steady, unhurried pattering of it against the skin of his palms.

Strangely, he found himself wishing heartbeats could could be read in terms of Morse code; that he could find all the truths Allen would never speak aloud from that honest anatomical heart. Allen, despite all his smiles and the easy flow of their conversations, gave very little away. In a sense, he was almost as reticent as Link himself, always talking and talking and _talking_ but never really saying what he meant. Never saying what mattered.

Allen closed in on Link again, moving less with his feet, now, and more with his shoulders and his hips. The back of Link’s hand pressed flat against Link’s chest, and he catalogued the differences in their heartbeats and bodies, as well as the ways in which they were both the same.

His breath left him in a sharp exhale when Allen leaned down, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed the side of his nose against Link's. Not a kiss, Link registered with both relief and disappointment, but an embrace all the same.

Allen didn't say anything, and neither did Link, too nervous to even consider it. Allen's breath was on his face, warm and soft, like he'd fallen into a half-sleep. He wasn't even touching Link except where Link was holding his hand between them and where their noses were brushing, making Link woozy and weak in the knee.

Still, Link couldn't quite turn off the logical, analytical half of his brain— the part that encouraged him to think this situation through before acting rashly. Allen was tired. Tired and _hurt_ ; wounded in some deep, intimate sense that had nothing to do with bodily injury. Allen was reaching out, blindly, for something to stabilize him. Someone. That, or this entire situation was some convoluted form of distraction, a powerful coping mechanism in it's own right.

Link, despite his best efforts, liked Allen. He liked him a lot, and he liked the steady heat they'd accumulated. Link, consequentially, didn't like seeing Allen hurt. But he also didn't think he could stand to see Allen do something he'd regret in a moment of weakness— he'd be taking advantage. That thought hit him with the barrelling force of a freight train; I'm taking advantage. It threatened to take Link out of the heat entirely.

Link cleared his throat and started to pull away, but Allen held on, reaching between them to take Link's hands into his own. His eyes had snapped open, alarmed and a little apologetic, and he leaned back into Link's space, earnest and boyish and more than a little frantic.

"Wait," he said. "Don't go."

"Walker," Link said. Allen blinked once, as if surprised—  well, perhaps _jarred_ would be a more accurate term. After having been so close, the cool formality of referring to Allen by his surname felt like a backslide. Still, it was a necessary one. Allen's grip on Link's hands slackened for a beat, and Link took advantage of the fact to pry himself away.

He took a step back, hating himself for it, knowing it was the only thing he could do. All the while, his gaze flickered rapidly, nervously from the carpet to the stucco ceiling to the blooming look of hurt in Allen's eyes.

"Today... was a difficult day," Link continued, speaking in a clear, crisp voice that was not quite his own. He fought to ignore the shiver of guilt crawling over his skin. "You're tired. You're not... thinking straight."

Allen stood. He stared. Link met his eyes steadily, cataloging every shift in his expression: the wavering line between hurt and dazed acceptance.

"I'm sorry," Allen demurred. His voice was small and tight, almost childlike in its breakability. He cleared his throat, and God, the way this boy could just make Link's heart _ache_. "I'm sorry, I should've... you're right. You're right." Then, again, as if he could hardly help himself from saying it, "I'm sorry."

Allen let out a breathy little laugh. His body curved into an inwards arc, and he brought his hands up to his eyes and rubbed them with the heels of his palms.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," Link said quietly. Allen swayed, just slightly. Alarmed, Link reached forwards to put a hand on his shoulder.

"No, I do," Allen said. There was a glinting, diamantine hardness in his eyes, now, and he shrugged off Link's touch as though embarrassed by it. "I wasn't thinking. I wasn't thinking at all, of course you wouldn't..." Allen raised one hand to his own mouth, and pressed it there for a moment. When he'd finally recovered enough to be able to speak again, his eyes had lost some of that hardness, settling instead into a transparently artificial facsimile of calm. "It's fine. I just need to do better. That's all."

Link curled his hand into a fist against his slacks.

"I wouldn't... what, exactly?" He prompted. His voice came out stiffly, and maybe it was wrong of him to push, because Allen made a jumpy, nervous gesture, hands jumping up to scratch the back of his neck.

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," Link said.

"Wouldn't... want this. With me." Allen smiled a bright, closed smile. "I'm sorry. Don't worry about it."

_Don't worry about it?_

"Allen," Link said, speaking more urgently now. He took a step forwards, trying to bridge some of the icy distance he'd created between the two of them, but Allen seemed eager to escape him now. He squirmed back, stare firmly rooted someplace above Link's head. "It's not that I don't want... something with you. I'm just trying to be sensitive towards the situation."

"It's fine," Allen said. He was still smiling, one hand still bracing the back of his neck. "Really, you don't have to worry about it, alright?"

"I'm being serious," Link said, licking his lips. Allen still wouldn't look at him— something inside him, once inviting had gone cold, closed off. "If you— if you think I'm simply not interested..."

"That's _enough_ , Link," Allen cut him off, voice sharp enough to silence Link entirely. Link froze, and so did Allen. Then, smiling quickly as if to throw a curtain over his hurt, "You don't have to humour me, you know. I understand."

"Understand what, exactly?" Link countered. He put his face into his hands and let out a short, exasperated breath. "My God, I— I just don't want either of us to do something we'll come to regret."

This time, it was Allen's turn to go quiet. He stared over Link's head, smile flashing on and off like a flickering light bulb, like he wasn't sure what he could do but smile. Belatedly, Link realized this hadn't been the right thing to say. It hadn't been the right thing at all.

"That didn't come out right," Link sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a quick, steady exhale before refocusing his attention on Allen. "Come over here," he said, softly now, longing to recapture the sweetness of the moment before it threatened to escape them forever. "Please."

He reached for Allen's hand, catching it in a gentle clasp. Allen hesitated, but didn't retreat. Link tugged his hand lightly, encouraging him forwards. Allen let himself be pulled into Link's arms, Link wrapping both arms around Allen's shoulders, holding him warm and soft against the slate of his chest. Allen let out something like a sigh, pressing in close and leaning down to press his nose into the crook of Link's neck.

Although they were about the same height, Allen even a little taller, there was something paper-delicate about Allen's build that provoked a protective instinct in Link— Allen was gangly, slight, alabaster-pale. He seemed to run colder than Link, too, and Link held him closer, desperate to warm him up by whatever means possible. He pressed his lips to the side of Allen's lowered head, not quite kissing the crown, but lingering there all the same.

"What do you want?" Link murmured, and Allen shivered, a slight shudder that wouldn't have been perceptible at all had he not been pressed up against Link's body.

"I don't know," Allen sighed. Then, "I want to be good." He let out a laugh, then, the shaky breath of it skating against Link's collar and the exposed surface of his neck. "That sounds weird. I don't know."

"You are good," Link responded reflexively. Allen laughed again, sotto.

"Am I?"

"Of course you are."

Allen hummed, unconvinced, wrapping his arms around Link's waist. He nosed against the edge of Link's collarbone, like he was trying to get as close as possible. This time, it was Link's turn to sigh."

"W— Allen," he said. "I want to be honest with you, not only because I respect you, but because I care about you." Allen leaned back, just a little, so that he could take in Link's expression with big, glassy eyes. Link dropped one hand to support Allen by the waist, the other rising tentatively to cup Allen's cheek. "And that's... the issue, I suppose. I do care about you. More than I should. But... our situation is far from ideal."

"You think I don't know that?" Allen smiled without humour. His eyes were wet, shining with the glossy film of unshed tears.  "God, I know. Okay?"

"Then why—"

"You make me feel safe," Allen said. He let out a shaky little laugh, and Link brushed his thumb over Allen's cheekbone. Allen leaned into Link's hand, like this was something he needed, like Link's touch was the only thing keeping him from collapsing into himself. "I guess that sounds pretty stupid, huh?"

"It doesn't," Link said. "It doesn't sound stupid at all." Then, “I want you to feel safe with me. I don’t think I could bear it if you didn’t.”

He would've said something more, too, but then Allen was leaning forwards, sending his thoughts scattering like a busy crowd of moths. Just then, Link couldn't focus his energy on anything but Allen angling his head and letting his lips hover just over Link’s. The absence of pressure offered its own kind of weight. It stifled his airways and made his stomach drop, and Link only felt all the more crazed for realizing that Allen was waiting for him to respond.

They could still stop. Link could still stop them.

He didn't want to.

He turned his head and leaned in, testing the give of Allen's lips beneath his own. They held against his and pressed back, gentle but firm. Link's stomach flipped, bouncing almost violently beneath his skin. He kissed Allen slowly, encouraging his lips to part with a soft, barely-there nudge. Allen made a noise, an unabashedly grateful kind of half-moan, when their lips pulled apart.

Allen eased forward, lips aligning with Link’s again and back arching so that his chest pushed out against Link's, his shirt and jacket riding up between both their bodies. Link took the hint and, without thinking, roved under Allen’s jacket with that hand and behind Allen’s neck with the other. The multitude of open-mouthed kisses that followed the initial explorative one were patient and curious. Link took to flicking his tongue at the roof of Allen’s mouth and Allen took to nipping at Link’s lips when he pulls away to breathe.

Tasting the soft sounds of enjoyment Allen made on his tongue was a heady enough thrill that he didn't notice Allen’s hands making avenues of their own, sliding up between their bodies to fuss with the front buttons of Link's shirt. He didn't realize he was being stripped until—

“God,” Allen all but sighed, parting Link's button-up shirt down the middle, hands cataloguing the warm flesh revealed to him. "God, I've wanted to do this for... for.."

Allen trailed off, eyes unashamedly taking in the musculature of Link's abdomen and biceps, and Link took advantage of Allen's silence to steal another kiss.

Inspired, Link worked at the buttons of Allen’s shirt, the pressed uniform jacket already undone where the two halves met. Enthusiastic, Allen leaned back a ways and slides out of his outermost layer of clothing, shimmying it down his arms and tossing it away. Allen was lovely, all pale and flush and perfect, beautiful even despite the shocking red carapace of his left arm.

Mindlessly, Link bent down and mouthed from just beneath Allen's collar bone up until the point of his chin. He kissed and sucked at the skin there, tasting for just a moment before nipping at Allen's bottom lip instead.

"Gorgeous," he murmured. "Absolutely gorgeous."

Allen positively keened, arcing back in against Link to busy his mouth with more desperate, open kisses. Link's tongue darted out to brush against Allen's, just once, before disappearing again— a thought was breaking through the haze, the thought that Link wasn't sure what wanted, that this was moving too fast. Allen, not one to be treated delicately, followed Link's retreat urgently, coaxing the older boy's mouth open further. Their tongues tangled, a hot, liquid sensation that went straight to Link's dick.

A second later Allen’s hands were on Link's belt, and Link incongruously attributed his bodily reaction to the very precise way Allen loosened it, hands moving with a fluid grace that, curiously enough, suggested experience.

The belt clicked as Allen undid it, and that sound, that faint metallic clink, was enough to jolt Link out of the moment.

"Hold on," Link said, drawing back out of the kiss. He felt hot, and was more than certain he was blushing. He wondered if Allen could feel the heat coming off his face. Wondered if Allen could tell he was getting hard. He cleared his throat, embarrassed by his own interest in the situation, the reactions Allen had provoked from him. "We might be getting somewhat, ah... carried away."

"Oh," Allen said hazily. He blinked hard, forcing himself back into himself, hands still. "Sorry. I shouldn't have assumed." He was breathing hard, eyes slowly coming into focus on Link, a hint of self-conscious shame creeping in over his prior boldness. "Did you want to stop?"

Link took a long moment to consider it, Allen worrying at his own lower lip as he waited.

"No," Link finally decided. He pressed a dry kiss to Allen's forehead to set him at ease. "No. I... would like to continue. But I do want to check in with you, make sure—"

"You don't need to do that," Allen protested, bringing his body back against Link's. Link hissed at the slide of skin on skin, Allen's cool body warming up into a heady flesh. "I'm not so delicate, Link. You of all people should know that."

"Even so, I'd like to be careful with you," Link countered, one arm circling around Allen's back, another carding his pale hair away from his face. "I want to take my time with you," he continued, leaning in to brush a chaste kiss over Allen's scar. "And I need to know that you're sure, Allen."

"I'm sure, Link," Allen said. "I know this isn't... ideal. It isn't perfect. And I'm not perfect. But all the same," he reached for Link without looking and took his hand, "I want you."

Link had been red-faced during this entire exchange, and yet, somehow, this was enough to turn him even redder. He opened his mouth, hoping to respond in turn, but all that came out was an unintelligible, involuntary sound, a kind of _mnnngh_. Allen laughed softly, kissing Link at the corner of his mouth.

"You're... something else," Link eventually managed.

"Guilty as charged," Allen admitted. He kissed Link swiftly on the lips, and Link felt something tense inside his chest finally rest at ease.

Link cupped Allen's face with both hands, pressing their foreheads together. Allen smiled, vague and warm, everything Link could've asked for and more.

"If you don't mind," Link said, haltingly, "I'd like to take you to bed."

Allen shivered.

"The pleasure's all mine."

And then, they were kissing again, hot and hurried and messy, teeth clacking together inelegantly as Link moved over to his bed, guiding Allen down onto the mattress. Without preamble, Allen yanked Link down on top of him. Link all but fell on top of Allen, provoking another burst of warm, quiet laughter from Allen as Link shifted awkwardly to get his bearings. He bracketed Allen's hips with his thighs, knees planted firmly against the mattress, hands bracing the sheets just above Allen's head so that Allen was finally, beautifully splayed out underneath him.

He wasted no time in resuming his exploration of Allen's body, taking advantage of the position to leave biting kisses all down Allen’s chest. His mouth covers one pink nipple, tongue whirling the bud as he sucked, and Allen lets out a desperate noise, back arching.

God, the _sounds_ this boy made. They made Link want to do reckless, reckless things.

“What do you want?” he asked, pushing himself up on his elbows. This close, he could see the smoothness of Allen's skin, the moth-pale curl of his eyelashes, the wet, lush redness of his lips, and he felt it acutely like a punch to his chest.

"I want... to make you feel good," Allen panted. Blindly, he reached upwards to grope at Link's clothed erection, grinding the heel of his palm against it. Link let out a low hiss, and Allen's eyes went hazy. Link pressed his forehead to Allen’s shoulder until he could regain his composure.

“What do you want to do?” he clarified, once words are back within his reach.

"I want," Allen wetted his lips, eyes darting up and down Link's body, "I want to suck you off." His gaze jerked back up to meet Link's, at once flustered and unafraid. "Want to taste you."

Link blanched, jaw dropping open.

"I..."

"Please," Allen said, palm still grinding down against Link's cock, fumbling for his zipper. Lazily, he slung one leg around Link's waist, squirming and squirming to turn them around. "Please, I want— I want to do this."

Link stared, and Allen stared back. Then, slowly, stupidly, Link nodded— a wordless acquiescence. Just as well, because just then, forming words seemed an incomprehensibly difficult task, but forcing his watery legs to swing over the side of the bed was simple enough. When he glanced down, he was greeted by a sight that would probably haunt him until the day he died: Allen sliding to the edge of the bed and dropping awkwardly to his knees, hands settling on Link's hips, pulling him closer.

“God,” Link said, "God, what did I ever do to deserve you?"

Curiously, Allen let out a soft sound, one that deserved further investigation. Still he didn't falter, doesn’t let the movements of his hand betray him as he continued to worked Link's buttons free and tugged his zipper down. There was a nervous hitch to his breathing, the hitch that Link was certain was in his own breathing as well, uneven and gun-shy, but anticipatory as well.

With his human hand, Allen freed Link's cock, holding it the base. For one long, mortifyingly embarrassing moment, he just looked at it, and Link, breathing hard, braced himself and waited for whatever Allen would give him.

Then, Allen sucked a kiss onto the head of Link's cock. Link, for lack of a better term, lost his mind.

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathed as Allen started tonguing him. “G-God, _Allen_.” His brain felt wiped out into a low whining thrum, or maybe that was just the sound coming out of him as Allen licked his cock, first in shallow curious lapping and then with more confidence. Stroking him with his tongue, following the big vein up to the crown where he slid his tongue over Link's slit. Link grasped at Allen's shoulders with both hands, just trying to remember how to breathe.

He could hardly _think_ —  Allen's lips were on him, his cock slick-wet with Allen's spit. Allen's mouth wandered, sucking at the base near Link's balls, and Link's hands jumped to Allen's hair, hands tightening as he let out a low sound. Allen seemed to respond to this, letting out a sound that was something like a pant, his breath hot and warm over Link's cock.

Hazily, Link realized that Allen was getting off on this. Allen's unoccupied left hand was trapped behind his clothed thighs, rubbing back and forth as if to relieve some building pressure. Allen was getting hard from this, licking Link's cock, making Link moan. Making him feel good.

Allen, never one to do fine when he can do great, opened his mouth and guided Link in, lips pulled back carefully over his teeth. Link let out a ragged breath, fingers now properly fisting into Allen's hair as Allen worked up and down Link's cock, head bobbing, tongue gliding, and sucking, _yesyesyes_. Unconsciously, Link's hips snapped forwards, fucking deeper into Allen's mouth.

Link froze the moment he realized what he was doing, and opened his mouth to apologize—    but before he could say a word, Allen fucking moaned around Link's cock, a whimper-soft hum that had Link holding on for dear life.

Link gasped, hips jerking forwards into tiny, shallow thrusts, shaking against the effort not to fuck Allen's mouth. He was finding it harder and harder to resist swearing, something that didn't typically come naturally to him but now seemed particularly appealing. Allen looked up at Link through the pale fan of his lashes, making eye contact as he bobbed back to lick a pearl of precome from the tip of Link's cock.

Allen wanted to be good. Liked knowing he was doing good. With shaky hands, Link pushed back Allen's fringe, hot and flustered beneath his heated stare but meeting it all the same.

"F-Feels good," Link said, embarrassed with himself beyond belief. There was something absolute mortifying in this, voicing what he was feeling. He closed his eyes, letting out a short breath. "You're so good, so good to me, such a good—"

Allen's mouth came off Link's cock, making a slick, obscene _pop_ in the process.

"You— you can't keep talking like that," Allen said, and Link realized then just how much his praise had affected Allen. Allen was positively squirming between Link's thighs, his left hand rutting and rutting against his own crotch, groping himself. Allen let out a helpless little laugh, "You're gonna kill me, you know?"

"You don't like it?" Link asked, blinking hard.

"That's not it." Allen licked his lips thoughtfully. "I do. I do, I really do but..."

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," Link breathed. He touched Allen's cheek with one hand.  "I very much wish... you could see yourself the way I see you. Absolutely irresistible."

Allen laughed again, eyes adoring, eyelashes fluttering softly as he grinned. It made Link's heart stutter in its rhythm, his stomach getting tied up in delirious knots.

"You're ridiculous," he said, drawing his Innocence hand away from himself and knocking his knuckles against Link's thigh. "And... surprisingly sentimental, huh?"

"Well, perhaps," he said, "but I’m also serious." He made a soft sound as Allen slid up from his knees to join Link back on the bed. He dropped himself into Link's lap, stomach lining up against Link's still exposed cock, and Link hissed as Allen wrapped his hand around Link's slick length and gave it an idle stroke.

"Are you now?" He mused playfully. Link swallowed hard.

"Well, I— I don't consider myself _easily_ tempted into doing things I shouldn't."

Allen cocked his head to the side.

"And you wanna do me?"

Link sighed, pressing his face against Allen's neck.

"Don't be crass."

Allen laughed again, warm and easy, taking his hand off of Link to fiddle with the waistband of his pants.

"A little late for that, don't you think?" He said affectionately, and he started unbuttoning himself, shimmying his pants and underwear down his thighs in awkward, yanking motions. "Help me?"  The way he said it, it sounded just as much like a coy promise as it was a request. Link spent the next minute or so doing just that.

Allen was a shaking, writhing mess when Link stripped him naked, the dark flush of his cock exposed to the open air. Just as soon, he was stripping Link of his pants as well, until the both of them were naked and wanting, every slick brush of skin against skin sending a spark of pleasant energy coursing down Link's spine.

Allen's thighs squeezed around Link's waist as he tried to guide Link closer and closer, calves at Link's back.

"Do you wanna fuck me?" Allen asked. Link opened and closed his mouth several times before responding, red up to his ears.

"Uh," he eventually said, very suavely. "I, ah." His voice, traitor that it was, refused to function correctly for several painfully long seconds. Possibly due to all the blood in his head being relegated to his dick. "I— I would, that is, if that's what you want, I wouldn't presume—"

"I want it," Allen said. Link wasn't quite sure whether to classify his smile as sexy or a shit-eating grin. He stopped worrying about it when Allen pressed that smile against Link's mouth, kissing him firmly. A revelation, Allen's mouth. "Wait right here."

He reached over for his suitcase, fumbled for a bottle— oil or lotion, some kind of lubricant— and oh God, this was really happening, wasn't it? Allen made a quick return, looking a little wild now, like he was also just being struck by the reality of what they were doing.

"How do you want to..." Link trailed off, embarrassed, only to then  have his question was answered by a shockingly unembarrassed Allen. He lay back against the sheets, supine, and grabbed Link by the shoulders to pull him on top.

"I want to see your face."

"Oh," Link breathed. It was all he could think to say. He nodded down at Allen, blank and hazy and over-serious. With deft confidence, Allen took Link by the hand, slicking his fingers up and bringing them in between his legs. Link guided them in gently.

It was Link's first time doing anything like this, and though it was odd, he couldn't say he disliked it— especially as he really started to open Allen up. Slowly, Allen's expression of mild discomfort dissolved into one more heated. "Come on, Link, please," he began to say, voice dying on a whimper as Link stretched him out with a second finger. Then a third, scissoring deep enough that Allen began to squirm. Anxious to get things moving,Allen tried to trap him with his knees, but Link grabbed them gently and spread Allen’s legs open.

Allen squeezed his eyes shut, slurring as he breathed. “Please, Link,” he said. "I'm ready, I'm ready, just _fuck_ me— "

"I told you, didn't I?" Link licked his lips. "I want to take my time with you."

He gripped one of Allen’s legs for balance and wrapped his other hand around his cock. Allen's precome dripped over his fingers, warm and clear, as he scooted in closer until he was bracing himself on top of Allen.

Slowly, he pushed himself in. Allen was maddeningly tight around his cock, the muscles of his neck corded with effort as he lifted his head up, searching for another kiss. Link kissed him helplessly, his tongue in Allen’s mouth as he moved his hips, thrusting into Allen with slow, delicate strength. Allen's hips jerked back to meet Lin's thrusts, the blunt fingernails of his left hand cutting into Link’s back.

Link could feel his braid sticking to the back of his neck, shining with sweat. He was sweating onto Allen, shaking as he holds himself in position. Allen bucked up, arching and fucking back like a wildcat, like something storm-driven and feral, rearing to bite Link’s collarbone.

Locked between Allen’s pale thighs, sunk into the heat of Allen’s body, Link stopped thinking about conflict of interest, bad ideas, orders and station. He could only focus on the hot pull of Allen's body, the tight stretch of muscle around his thick cock, and the sounds he was dragging out of Allen. God, the way Allen moaned, it was like he was _drunk_.

"Talk to me," Allen all but begged. "Like you— mngh!" He closed his eyes and held on tight, momentarily blinded by some sensation— hazily, Link reminded himself to remember that face, that spot. "L-Like you did before, say, say— "

“You feel amazing,” Link said. "So perfect, so good, such a good boy, Allen, so good for me." Slowly, he began to speed the movements of his hips, lifting Allen's legs so he could get a better angle. "God, I can hardly think when you're around—"

Allen let out a loud, shaky moan, and Link knew Link had found that spot again. “Feels good?” Allen nodded rapidly. "You're doing so well, Allen. Feel so good. Think you can come for me?"

Allen nodded again, lips parted, pink and perfect and kiss-bruised. There was nothing in the world like the sight of Allen falling apart, pink mouth open, eyes clenched shut, body arched, every tendon held taut and ready to snap.

Link felt him come, spilling hotly between them, felt the fracturing pleasure that pulled him under, heard his name on Allen's lips, and followed.

He dropped his forehead onto Allen's collarbone as they recovered.

Allen urged Link down for another kiss. He was languid now, sated, his softening cock indolent against his thigh.

"You... you did well," Link said, once he'd caught his breath. It sounded a little ridiculous, coming from him, but felt like the right thing to say. The kind of thing Allen might like to hear. He pulled himself away from Allen to lie next to him, Allen turned onto his side to face him. He blinked at Link, syrupy and slow. Fucked out, Link realized with a shiver. A thought that managed to be both profane and deeply, hopelessly attractive.

Link wondered if he ought to be running to a church to beg forgiveness or the like. He didn't particularly feel any such sense of urgency. Only warmth.

"I should be saying that to you," Allen said slowly, voice light with a teasing warble. He gave Link a weak little shove on the arm. "You big virgin." Then, he paused, reconsidering it. "Well. I just assumed you were, I guess, I don't know if—"

"I am," Link said haltingly, a crack of embarrassment driving its way through his voice. "That is, ah. I was."

"Mm. Well, then maybe I should've been treating _you_ delicately," Allen murmured. A little smile rose to the corner of his lips, assuring Link that he wasn't being too serious.

"Allow me my sentimentality." Link returned. He turned to nose a gentle kiss into Allen's neck, and then another on his shoulder. "You did good, Allen. Very good."

"It was good for you?" Allen asked. His eyes were distant and vague. Link brushed his damp fringe away from his eyes.

"It was."

"Mm," Allen said. He turned over and pressed his face against Link's shoulder. His breaths were slow and regular, and Link found himself enjoying the minute sensation of Allen's chest rising and falling. Just as he was growing concerned that Allen might fall asleep there, Allen lifted his head again to meet Link's gaze evenly. His eyes were hooded, cloudy as if with smoke. "Was this a mistake?"

Allen's voice was small, like he'd lost his breath the moment he started to speak.

"I don't know," Link answered honestly.

"You don't know," Allen repeated. He didn't sound comforted. Link supposed that was only fair.

"What do you think?" Link countered softly. He wrapped his arms around Allen, securing him, and Allen frowned.

"I think..." Allen moistened his lips, tongue darting. "I'd like to think that it wasn't. And I'd like to think that everything will work out in the end. That we'll, I don't know, conquer all obstacles. Find a way. Make this last."

"I'd like that too," Link said. Then, after a pause, "Perhaps it needn't merely be a thought."

Allen let out a breathy little laugh.

"And I thought I was supposed to be the idealist here."

"I'm very serious."

"You always are, aren't you?"

"My burden to bear," Link deadpanned. Absently, he began tracing patterns over the surface of Allen's bare back, and Allen hummed.

"A blessing and a curse, really."

"Well. I never claimed to be rich in personality."

"And yet, you are, in your own way," Allen said enigmatically. He leaned back up and kissed Link on the nose. "I'm too tired to be witty. I just want you to keep holding me."

"We should clean up," Link suggested gently.

"I don't really care."

"You'll feel disgusting if you don't."

"A small price to be paid."

Link prodded Allen's side.

"I'll feel disgusting if I don't."

"Oh," Allen said. He rolled away from Link lazily, freeing him. Link rewarded him with a chaste kiss. "That's alright, then."

"Give me a minute," Link said.

He pushed himself up and slipped out of bed. Immediately, he didn't feel right walking around their room naked, so he pulled on a pair of underwear and grabbed a pair of pajama bottoms. There was a small washroom adjacent to their room at the inn, just a sink with soap and a few towels. For lack of a hot shower, it would suffice. Quickly, Link washed his face and hands, then, with some embarrassment, cleaned off the cool, drying come that had spattered across his stomach. His back was stinging somewhat, and he abruptly remembered the sensation of Allen's blunt, black fingernails dragging across it. He'd check the damage tomorrow. For now, he pulled his pajama pants on and padded back into the room he and Allen shared.

Allen had turned onto his side to catnap on the warm spot left by Link's body on the sheet. His right arm was stretched out so that his fingers were dangling over the side of the mattress. He'd fall asleep right there if Link let him, cock out and messy with come, utterly shameless. Link really shouldn't have been endeared. He proceeded to be endeared all the same. He slipped back into the bathroom and dampened a rag, then walked back to the bed where Allen was dozing off and prodded him upright, forcing him to clean up the worst of the mess between his legs before it could dry and become a nuisance.

"I really, really care about you, Link," Allen said sleepily, watching Link move about the room with dreamy interest. "You know what I'm trying to say?"

Link gathered the clothes on the floor and folded them onto the chair, wondering if they'd have time for laundry before they traveled back to Headquarters.

"Perhaps," he said abstractly. "Why don't you tell me all about it tomorrow?"

Allen made a soft sound and stretched out against the sheets.

"Sure," he said. His eyes flickered briefly to the second, unused bed at the other side of the room. "Will you sleep with me tonight?"

"If that's what you want," Link said. He rifled briefly through Allen's already unzipped suitcase and pulled him out a pair of pajamas to slip into. He tossed them onto the bed, and Allen reached for them groggily.

"It is," he said meaningfully, shimmying into his pants lazily, which was more than Link could've hoped for. Link put one knee on the mattress and leaned forwards to give him a kiss on the cheek. “What happens when we go back home?” Allen asked then, eyes filmed over with exhaustion, voice blurried, like he was too tired to fully grasp the solemnity of the question at hand.

Link thought about it for a moment. The snug warmth of the moment was filling him with a deeply uncharacteristic optimism. Just then, he couldn't bear to imagine that this bubble might burst, that their time together was finite, that they would soon be returned to the cold net of reality that kept them tangled apart. No, he decided. It couldn't be so.

“Well,” he finally responded, tone even. “I suppose it’s like you said. We find a way. We overcome.”

Allen stared up at Link, then smiled with glassy satisfaction, like he’d been testing Link and had received the response he was hoping for.

“That could be nice,” he said, and he tumbled forwards against Link, warm and sweet and tired, smelling of sex and sweat and something faintly cinnamonic. “Wake me up when you do, alright?”

“Alright,” Link said. Allen’s vulnerability left him with a certain ache-- hot and tender, like a bruise.

“We can do breakfast in the city.”

“Alright.”

“Mngh. We should take Lena with us. I know you two aren’t friends, but I think you could be.”

“Alright.”

“Can you blow out the candle?"

"Alright."

A whisper of smoke.

"Mmm. Come here. Can you just— hold me, like that."

"Alright."

"Link. Kiss me again. Please."

"Alright."

They kissed in the dark, blind, fumbling, mouths sore.

It was a little more than just alright.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote a canonverse linkllen smutfic roughly a year ago. this is the better, less weird version of that. also, a gift for the magnificent zoe, who i kind of owed a favour.
> 
> ketakoshka, if you're reading this, i hope you know i hate you.
> 
> hurryupfic | tumblr  
> fuckhowardlink | twitter


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